… And Have a Ball
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: New Year's Eve Party…


**FRINGE**

… **And Have ****a Ball**

No inFRiNGEment intended. I'm playing with the characters and I promise I will put them back in their box when I'm finished.

Note: Not episode related. However, some time after "Safe". Possible AU. New Year's Eve Party… and a Happy New Year to everyone!!!!!!!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She stood up to shut the door to her office and caught from the corner of her eye a glimpse of Charlie's concerned face and his waving at her. She was aware he could not stop being worried, it seemed that he had been ever since their raid to Little Hill; and given that they could not find what really happened during these dreadful hours when she was abducted, he was not going to cheer up anytime soon. To make matters worse, she knew that they will probably never find out. She waved back at him with a comforting smile plastered on her face and closed the door.

She went back to her desk and sat down, staring blankly at her monitor for a while, in a futile attempt to regroup. Broyles had already warned her against making such rash decisions but he never got back at her with any extreme disciplinary measures after she managed to expose pharmaceutical magnate _David Esterbrook__,_ CEO of INtREPUS.

There was no other way, at least no other way that she could think of. She had to be there. What was really called for was a special someone who would tag along, an outsider, someone with different ideas, a fresh insight, not the formatted typical FBI agent. Not to mention that her approach was not undercover per se, to be perfectly honest she had no time to clear it with Broyles, but she simply could not let such an opportunity go away without at least give it a try. She might discover new leads and new perspectives. She had to do it.

She dialled a number on her cell phone and waited for the phone to ring on the other end. She clicked on a link and a new window popped up on the screen. She squinted and tried to read the page without her glasses on. Yes, that was definitely the place to be. Someone finally picked up before she hung up.

"Mad Scientist Experimental Lab. Evil genius speaking."

"Peter?"

"Yup… Olivia! I'm glad you called, this is madness over here. Walter is going to drive us both crazy."

In the background, she heard Astrid negotiating with Walter and various clicking and rattling sounds. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

"He wants us to test his new eggnog recipes. You heard me. Plural. Olivia, you've got to come over to help us."

"Peter, I need you."

"Tell me why I have the funny feeling that it's not at all what you meant?" he said in a light-hearted voice.

She heard Walter's voice echoing in the lab and Peter's simmering with repressed laughter. Happy she was not in front of him trying to conceal her red face from him under the scrutiny of her assistant and Walter's, she realized she had not given a thought at what she would say should she reach him. She decided the easiest way out was to simply ask him and get it over with. If she was lucky, he'll say yes. She wished that he would understand without her having to spell things out but he was no mind reader, not yet. Probably, Walter will eventually come up with something but right now, he was not.

"I need you to come with me to a party, a New Year's Eve party, to be quite accurate."

"Really? What can I say Dunham? I'm flattered. I'm sure I can find someone to babysit Walter eventually even under such short notice, so it won't be a problem."

She bit on his lip harder. She had totally forgotten about the older Bishop. His conduct had been improving dramatically lately and she was on the verge of considering he was actually perfectly fit to go back to normal life, whatever that life was.

"Yes… --Walter. Maybe I could bribe Astrid?"

"Or we could bribe Charlie and Astrid and witness the blossoming of a beautiful relationship. Or we could take Walter with us, in fact he's not really a child, you know."

Suddenly there were no more background noises and she understood Peter might have moved to her office in the back of the lab to have some privacy. Before she knew it, she was unconsciously clearing her throat, in an attempt to find the perfect answer to his light banter.

"Or not," he added.

She should have known he was teasing her. If she was not so much engrossed in her work, she would have. She chose the professional answer.

"It would be best not to take him with us," she said. "I have no idea whether it's going to get out of hand or not."

"Sounds good... Don't be shy Dunham, spill the beans. What is it about this party? I'm thinking a Mr and Mrs Smith operation here. Am I warm?"

What was that? A spy movie? "Hmm… let's say you're hot but only for the sake of argument," she said with a note of hesitation in her voice before going beet red when realization of what she just said sank in. This was bad. She had to stay focused. "You must know that what I'm envisioning here is not by the book…" Fine, even worse. Go Dunham.

"Okay..." he trailed, "I'm not sure where all this is actually going but you know me. I won't bail on a good occasion to take part in a venture that's doomed from the start. And I'm good with off the radar operations."

"I bet you are," she snapped, in a pathetic attempt to regain some composure and grateful he had chosen to put her out of her misery.

"Dunham? What is it? It can't be so terrible can it?"

"Massive Dynamic. Costume party on their building roof."

"A costume party? You're kidding right?" he said.

"I wish I were."

"Is it the stuffy masquerade ball kind or what?"

"I have no idea. Probably a bit stuffy I guess."

"So what's next? I'd love to go costume hunting with you Dunham but I'm pretty sure you're aiming at an impractical stunt here…"

"I'm not sure about that."

"…and I should persuade you to change your mind.…"

"We could probably sneak in without having to go all Robin Hood and Maid Marianne."

"And stumble upon Nina and have a blast explaining why we're crashing her party?"

"I see your point."

"We'll need something casual though," he trailed, back to his usual Jack of all trades routine.

Olivia sensed he was thinking out loud. If someone could find a way in, that was Peter. Not only he might have a few tricks left up his sleeve but she could trust him. Not every agent had a Renaissance man handy and she was glad he was on her side.

"I'm not sure that the Bruce Wayne and Rachel Dawes approach would be correct," he continued. "You're not a brunette."

"And you're not a millionaire," she chuckled.

"How would you know?"

Her eyebrow rocketed and she mulled over a possible answer.

"What about something a little more exotic then? Like…" she trailed.

"… Caesar and Cleopatra you mean? Right, my thoughts exactly. With those legs of yours, I can totally picture you wearing a sea-green Greek dress of soft linen and a tightly curled red haired wig, with a small bun in the back and a diadem of course."

"I was thinking more along the Scott and Zelda lines."

"Oh I see, the decadent era. Good thinking. I bet that with the proper make up you could turn into a perfect femme fatale even to Nina Sharp eyes."

She smiled at the double entendre.

"I guess. But will your fake moustache be enough to distract her attention from us?"

"Since I adamantly refuse to wear red briefs over my blue tights, I suggest that you leave it to me Dunham. When I'm done with you, I promise that she'll never make you out."

She hung up, musing over his last words with a bewildered smile on her face. It took her some time to realize that Charlie was knocking at her door.

-o-

The door to the elevator slid open and they were bombarded with loud impersonal music and ebbing oozing lights.

"I have to say that I was not anticipating this," she said in a soft voice, "at all…"

She was nodding now, her gaze mapping the place and the people surrounding them. It was a huge and sophisticated party, with lots of technology involved, flying holograms, robotic waiters, CCTV all over the place, lots of officials, including the Mayor and half the Force on top of every executive belonging to a NASDAC high-tech company. And something was telling her she was not going to find anything conclusive tonight.

"What part, the one where we walk in without batting an eyelash or the one where you got to wear your usual clothes?" he whispered in her ear.

She managed to repress a shiver when his mouth brushed her neck and almost tucked her hair behind her ear but she stopped her arm in mid air remembering she was indeed wearing a wig. He took her hand in his and placed it on his arm, waving his sun glasses in the air like a magic wand. For the first time since they met in Iraq, in another life time, he even had a close shave and he looked younger and really different with his black wig, his brown contacts and his dark suit.

"I'd say both," she whispered back, "I can't even begin to understand why they let us in."

"You're kidding right?" Peter was grinning now. "They need to let some good looking people in. Just get a glance at your three."

She pushed her black sun glasses down her nose and did as she was told.

"Oh, I see… you mean the lady with the striped Bagheera costume?"

"No, the Borat guy… But you're right the obese Bagheera lady is a definitive tie. So, shall we go and mingle?"

"Yup, and you do your thing while I'll do mine."

"I love it when you talk dirty."

"I like it when you get delusional, agent Bee," she snapped back before realizing she was probably going too far.

"Copy that agent Dee. See you later," he said with a smirk, disappearing amongst the crowd.

She took her time some time and she tried every possible way to leave the roof and reach the levels down to MD offices but each exit was highly protected with state of the art artefacts and her only free access remained the main elevator and the street floor. She passed repeatedly Nina Sharp, David Esterbrook and dozens of their peers and tried to record in the back of her mind as many odd conversations as she could but she did not come across anything significant to the case.

She was getting bored and her black suit was far too warm for the current temperature. She wished she could wear only a thin layer of silk, a pair of sandals and a velvet domino and get rid of the wig and contacts.

"Those special agent outfits, that's really something," Peter whispered in her back, draping suggestively over her.

His words were matching her thoughts exactly.

"What is it with the adjective anyway? If every single agent is special, what purpose does it serve?"

She smiled and turned to him. He was wearing his sun glasses and his face was unreadable.

"I never thought of it that way, but you're right, it seems a bit ridiculous now that you mention it. Fortunately, we don't have to wear those suits everyday."

"Well I don't but you are."

"Not exactly. I tend to have the special agent look without having to put up with the cheap synthetic fabric and heavy black shoes."

"Could have fooled me," he smiled. "Any luck with your endeavour?"

"Nope. Nothing. I was stuck here with the rest of them."

"Ditto. So what do you want to do? Fancy a dance or is it time to go home?"

"Maybe we should take advantage of the relative calm to go now, what do you think?"

"Or we could make the most of this party and have some fun."

"In those clothes? Sorry, I can't."

"You really want to skip a pagan New Year celebration? Are you afraid that your SUV turns back into a pumpkin?"

She puckered her nose, feeling suddenly skittish.

"To tell you the truth, I am disappointed. I got all worked up with all this twilight zone madness and then the abduction. I guess I'm obsessed with it more than I should. I think it's best for me to leave."

"Let me boss," he said emphatically, holding out his arm for her to take it.

They were on their way to the elevator when a loud drumming and a bright flickering light stopped them in their tracks. A countdown echoed on the roof and everybody began chanting.

"Nine… Eight… Seven… Six…"

"I think we still can get to the elevator in time," he grinned, dragging her along half walking, half running, zigzagging through the guests.

"… Three… Two…"

They barged in and he punched the street floor button. The crowd exploded with cheers and laughters behind the closing doors and he leaned on the glass panel, staring at his shoes, catching his breath. She was standing in the middle of the elevator and she could not stop staring at him.

"Happy New Year Peter, I'm glad you came."

He flashed her a bright smile.

"I'm glad I was here for you Liv," he said, his hands reaching out to hers. "Happy New Year to you too."

She went closer to him. He tilted his head and their eyes locked. She squeezed his hands, got on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly.

She took a step back and shrugged.

"I had to get this out of my system. I'm sorry, don't be mad. You're… you're the only person I could think of to spend the evening with. Under the circumstances I mean."

"Absolutely. No sweat. That's cool…"

She was grinning.

"Too much? Sorry. I guess I'm overreacting," he grinned back.

He leaned over and kissed her back. It was a soft kiss at first but when she finally responded and leaned to his embrace, it took a turn he had anticipated since day one in Bagdad. The elevator doors opened and the security guard gazed at the men in black hugging inside until the doors closed again and the digits rocketed up back to the roof. He checked on his CCTV and watched them kiss for a moment before going back to his '_Live From __Times Square TV Special_' with a shrug.


End file.
